Borrowed Baby (8 page)

"Speaking of lost," she murmured to herself, "where's my other shoe?"

She moved several pairs of shoes around, searching through the bottom of her closet. She didn't have time to play hide-and-seek with an errant shoe. From the condition of her closet floor, it looked as though Alec and Bruce had used this one as one of their battlefields while she had been busy feeding Casie yesterday.

The shoe turned up under her bed.

She glanced at her wristwatch. The only way she was going to make it on time was if Vinnie was fifteen minutes late. Knowing Vinnie the way she did, this was not too much to hope for.

Laying her things out on the bed, Liz looked longingly toward the bathtub. Earlier, she had promised herself a long, luxurious bubble bath. A shower would have to do now. A very quick shower at that. But the trade-off had been well worth it. Every minute she had spent with Casie and Griff had been nothing short of an exciting adventure that left her amused, exasperated and more than a little entertained. Griff was responsible for most of that. And he was to blame for all the emotions that were rioting through her now. There were no two ways about it. The man had her emotions in an utter state of chaos. The message Don't Tread on Me was posted like a banner across his chest, and yet there was something in his eyes that reached out to her. Which was the true signal? She wasn't altogether sure, but she was bound and determined to find out.

Twenty-three minutes later, she stood showered, dried and dressed. She looked herself over in the mirrored wardrobe door. The dress she wore was a soft rose affair with narrow straps, a low neckline and shimmery beadwork woven throughout, like so many whimsically blinking stars. It fit snugly against her and was slit high up the front for maximum ease of movement. The light from her bedroom lamp played on the beadwork, making it glisten and shine. It was an ethereal effect that made her feel dreamy and exceptionally feminine.

She wished that Griff could see her in it.

"Might just make him sit up and take notice." She worked pins strategically into her hair.

She slipped on one shoe and was just reaching for the other when the doorbell rang.

Why did Vinnie have to pick tonight to start a new precedent and be on time? She still had her makeup to do and wanted at least five minutes to catch her breath.

Maybe it wasn't Vinnie.

Hobbling, Liz moved quickly to the front door, one shoe still in her hand. She yanked the door open. A part of her, a rather large part, was hoping that it was Griff coming to see her on some pretext about the baby. She knew he would never admit to wanting to see her on his own. For some reason, that would be admitting too much.

But the thin, bearded young man dressed in a tux was definitely not Griff. He lacked about six inches in the shoulder girth, let alone in height.

She kept her smile in place, trying to hide the disappointment that had absolutely no place being there. "Oh, hi, Vinnie, come on in. I'm almost ready." She closed the door behind him.

Vinnie glanced down at her one bare foot. "So I see." He strolled into the living room and fastidiously moved his photograph several inches to the left on the piano.

Liz hurried back toward her bedroom to apply some last-minute makeup.

Vinnie looked over in her direction. "You know, I'm really disappointed, Liz."

Liz spared him a glance before disappearing into the room. "Why?"

"This is probably the first time in my life that I'm on time, and you don't seem to appreciate it."

"I appreciate everything about you, Vinnie," she called out to him.

Bracing one hand on the bureau, she slipped on her shoe. One quick check in the mirror told her that mascara wouldn't really be missed just this once. Two strokes of her lip gloss and she was ready.

She came out of her bedroom to find Vinnie frowning to himself.

"Wish I could find a woman to say that."

"Say what?" With practiced hands, Liz straightened his bow tie.

Vinnie kept his chin raised as she worked. "That she appreciated everything about me."

Throwing a thin wrap about her shoulders, she hoped the evening wouldn't turn too cold. "I just did."

Vinnie looked wistful. "I mean a real woman—"

She patted his cheek. "Keep going, Vinnie, you've still got one foot left to go."

Vinnie looked at her, the myopic eyes behind the large-rimmed glasses suddenly appearing to focus on her and the impact of his words. "I meant one who isn't my best friend."

She was used to Vinnie's tongue getting hopelessly entangled. How he managed to turn out succinct, cryptic theater reviews for the local paper was one of life's little mysteries. "Nice save, Vinnie."

"Say." Vinnie stopped rambling long enough to look at her closely. "You look a little flushed."

Automatically, she raised her hand to her cheek. She felt a little flushed. But getting ready for the concert was only the superficial reason. She glossed over it. "That comes from rushing around. Let's go or we'll be more than fashionably late."

She dragged him by the arm to the front door. Though he acquiesced physically, he didn't seem ready to let the subject drop.

He peered at her face. "Are you coming down with something?"

The door clicked shut behind them, and they headed toward his car. She thought of the churning sensations in the pit of her stomach that had been there ever since Griff had kissed her. "Maybe."

"If you don't feel well, I can always go alone." In an instant, his face fell and he looked like a woeful child who had just been informed that his trip to Disneyland was canceled. Vinnie pushed his sliding glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "It won't be the first time I've gone by myself to review a concert."

He did have a flair for the dramatic, she thought. A painful flair. "Oh, Vinnie, don't sound so mournful." She opened the door to his gray sedan. "I'll go with you. I have nothing that's contagious." Unfortunately. Griff certainly hadn't acted as if he had been afflicted the way she was.

Vinnie got in next to her on the driver's side, but he was still apparently unsatisfied with her answer. "Then it's nothing serious?"

"The ignition, Vinnie. Put the key into the ignition." She watched him jab the key in, jiggle it and then turn on the engine.

Was it serious? she mused to herself. She didn't know yet. Aloud, she said, "That, only time will tell."

Vinnie began to drive toward The Performing Arts Center. "Have you seen a doctor?"

She smiled. Maybe she should. Someone who'd examine her head. Officer Griffin Foster gave her the impression, at times, that he was going into this relationship kicking and screaming. And that if he had his druthers, there wasn't going to be any sort of a personal relationship. So why was she bent on beating her head against the wall? Why did she want to be involved with a man who had to be cajoled into smiling?

"They haven't invented a serum for this yet, I'm afraid."

Vinnie swallowed. His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "Is it—is it inoperable?"

She realized that he was genuinely concerned and that they were talking about two very different things. She laughed softly, putting her hand on his arm. "Only if they cut out my heart." He stared at her, obviously utterly confused. "Vinnie, Vinnie," she said with great affection, "I think I'm falling in love, or like, or something in that family."

He let out a long, loud sigh. Behind him, car horns sounded impatiently.

"The light's green," Liz prompted.

The car began to move again. "You had me scared to death, Liz."

She nodded and grew serious for a moment. What would the consequences be if she did let herself fall in love with Griff? Let. Did she really have that much of a choice in the matter? She wasn't all that sure that she did, and that was what frightened her—in a thrilling, exhilarating sort of way.

"Yeah, me, too."

"Wanna talk about it?"

She smiled. Good old Vinnie. "When have you known me not to talk, Vinnie?"

"Well," he began as he changed lanes and headed onto the freeway, "there was that time you had your wisdom teeth pulled and they put you under...."

Liz laughed in pure delight.

By the time they returned from the concert later that evening, she had told Vinnie all about Griff and Casie. Vinnie had counseled her to go slowly in this, but then, Vinnie always told her that she was too eager to help out.

"That's your whole problem, you know." He slouched against the open doorjamb. "You think that you can save everyone and make them happy."

"I seem to recall saving a skinny little boy who turned out pretty well," she reminded him.

Vinnie drew himself up and squared his thin shoulders. "Not everyone turns out as sterling as I did."

"That's what I love most about you, Vinnie, your deep humility. Go home and write your reviews,'' she urged, her hands on his chest as she pretended to push him toward his car. "Good night, Vinnie."

"Uh-huh."

He turned and she knew he didn't even hear her. He was already composing the review that would run in the paper next Tuesday. She let out a contented sigh and closed the door. It had been a very full day and she was more than willing to put it and herself to bed.

With the light in the living room off, the signal on her answering machine blinked at her urgently from its place on the bookcase, like the bloodshot eye of a drunken sailor trying to flirt. Liz slipped out of her shoes and picked them up. It was nearly one o'clock and she wasn't in the mood to call anyone back. She passed the machine and walked into her bedroom, intending to leave the messages until morning.

Curiosity got the better of her.

Liz crossed back to the machine. Pressing the right combination of buttons, she waited to hear her first message. Suddenly, Griff's voice filled the air. It was stiff and uncomfortable and there was another note in it she couldn't quite put a name to.

"This is Griff. Give me a call when you can. I need to talk to you."

Need, now there was an unusual word for him to use, she thought. She was about to discontinue the other two messages and play them back later, but before she could flip the switch, Griff's voice came at her again. This time, he sounded more impatient.

"This is Griff. Where are you? There's something wrong with Casie. Call me."

Concern. That was the note she had detected in the first message. The angry concern in his voice was something new. While it gratified her that she hadn't been wrong about the man's feelings toward Casie, she didn't have time to dwell on it. He needed her and she'd better call back—

The third message clicked in. This time, he was fairly shouting at her. "Damn it, where the hell are you? It's twelve-thirty. If you don't call by one, I'm taking Casie to the emergency room."

God, this was serious.

She looked at her watch. Ten to one. Instead of wasting time and calling, she decided to drive straight over. He might be on his way out and not bother to answer the phone. It would only take her five minutes to get to his house. She hurried out, threw her purse and shoes into the car and got in behind the steering wheel.

She barreled into his driveway in three minutes instead of five.

Coming to a screeching halt next to his car, she jumped out of hers just as he was about to get into his. Casie was already inside the car. Liz could hear her crying even though all the doors were closed.

Anger, fear and frustration warred within Griff. He didn't like any of the emotions. He didn't like emotions at all. But he gave in to anger. She had left him to cope with this, knowing that he couldn't, while she went running around town, doing who-knew-what with whom. And dressed fit to kill,

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked accusingly. "On a date?"

Liz shivered and ran her hands up her bare arms. In her hurry, she had left her wrap at home. "Sort of," she tossed off absently. "Never mind that now, what's wrong with Casie?"

"If I knew that," he retorted, glaring, "I wouldn't be taking her to the hospital."

Rather than waste any more time talking to him, Liz elbowed Griff out of the way, opened the car door and leaned into the back seat where Casie sat strapped in and howling.

"What's the matter, honey?" Liz cooed, feeling Casie's forehead. "She's hot."

"I already know that. She's been crying like this since nine and she won't stop. I've changed her, tried to feed her, even sang to her and she just kept crying."

Despite the urgency of the situation, Liz couldn't help reacting to what he told her. "You sang to her?" She couldn't picture it.

"It worked last night," he snapped, cutting short any sort of comment she was going to make.

Liz saw that Casie was rubbing her mouth. She was trying to shove her fist into it. But Griff said he had already fed her, so it wasn't hunger prompting Casie. More than likely, it could only be one thing.

"Well, I'm afraid it's not going to help in this case, at least, not yet." Liz began to undo the car seat's restraining straps.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking her out." She pulled the baby out of the seat and began walking toward the house.

It took a moment before he realized that she was doing exactly what she said. What was wrong with this woman? "I was going to take her to the hospital." Annoyed, he hurried after her.

"I don't think you need to. I think she's just teething."

"Teething?" he echoed. Was that what this was all about? All this noise over teeth? He eyed Liz suspiciously. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "She's about the right age for her first one. Open the door."

He did. It struck him that Liz was taking a lot upon herself, but he was at his wits' end and the baby needed help. They would settle the issue of who was in charge here later.